A Little Fall of Rain
by Ireland O'Reily
Summary: Against the volatile background of a citywide labor strike, a girl from the streets struggles with her unrequited love and the duties of friendship. Based around songs from Les Miserables


HELLO FANDOM! After a five month hiatus I'm back with a vengeance! To those who sent characters for my two Christmas fics, I'm so so so so sorry…life suddenly kicked into high gear and it was like someone pulled the rug out from under me. I barely had time to eat let alone pursue fic writing. Now, since I've graduated (Class of '05!), the pace is a little more manageable and I'm ready to start writing for you fine folks again. That is until August when I start my freshman semester at ECU…but until then I'm hoping to get out some good work. Anyway, enough of me, this is gonna be a pretty short story, but I'm hoping you'll love it like ya'll loved Roxanne…onward!

Disclaimer: I am not currently in the legal possession of any Newsies, nor to I claim the rights to the genius master-work that is Les Miserables.

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July, 1901

_Look down, look down_

_Don't look 'em in the eye_

_Look down, look down_

_You're here until you die_

Sweat rolled down Mush's back and forehead, stinging his eyes, plastering his shirt to his back. The air in the factory room was as hot and close as wet wool, thick with dust and other particles that choked the lungs of the hundreds of workers in the inferno of a factory.

Down the row, Blink shielded his good eye from the glare of the rising sun in the windows directly opposite his machine, Race stretched painfully, flexing the ache of three hour's labor out of his stiff back. Itey fared the worst in the murderous heat. Stumbling a little, he shut off his machine and lurched down the row towards the doors.

"What the hell are you thinking?" Smitts, the overseer flew at him, "Get that machine back on, you've got a quota to meet!"

Itey blearily focused his eyes, "I will, I jlust…I jist…I need water…"

"You need a good beating is what you need," Smitts thrust him back into place, "I got two hundred guys outside that'll work on hot coals if I ask 'em, should I call one?" Itey slowly shook his head, turning back to his machine.

Mush cast a look at Jack. His friend's hazel eyes glinted dangerously, the muscles in his jaw tight with rage.

Suddenly, the floor buckled and shook, explosive noises sounding beneath their feet. Every man in the room shut off his machine and dashed for the stairwell overlooking the main floor.

It was a scene of utter panic. The ruins of a boiler littered the floor; men dashed about tending to small fires quickly before they spread. Amid the rubble lay bodies…scorched in the initial blast or crushed by subsequent rubble, it made no difference now. Dead was dead alike. Mush's eyes swept the mess; on sight he counted nearly a hundred.

The overseers and managers threw open the vast factory doors revealing a yard crowded with unemployed hopefuls. "I need men in here to clean up. Do well and you can keep the job." The crowd surged forward, men pouring onto the floor. It took little more than an hour for them to complete their task; the dead were loaded up and carted away in mass, the remains of the boiler were disposed of. The accident had never happened.

"Back in line, all of you!" Smitts' voice cut like a whip through the fetid air, "There ain't nothing to see!" Jack remained for a moment, his stormy eyes in sharp contrast to his blank face. Smitts grabbed him by his collar, "I said get back to work, boy!" The younger man stared at him for a long moment, insolence playing over his handsome face. At last he nodded and followed the hopeless stream of men passing into the room.

As the machines roared to life once more, Jack leaned over to Mush, "We're meeting tonight, at Tibby's…pass it on."

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The boys were gathered in the restaurant as in the days of the Newsboy Strike. They were older, worn, grim-faced…long over-due for a fight. "You all saw what happened today," Jack was saying, "They use us and then throw us out like corn husks or something! We got no rights and no hope! But they need us. I'll be damned if they don't fall apart without us. We took on the big-shots once and we can do it again."

Race nodded, "So we're playing it like we did last time."

Jack nodded emphatically, "Maybe it ain't enough if it's just us, but this city is nothing without workers. If we can spread it to the other factories out there, if we can get everyone in…they can't ignore us. Are we in?" He was met by a chorus of cheers and whistles by way of agreement.

Race grinned, "Feels like old days," he chuckled.

Mush clapped his friend on the shoulder, "Its better," he turned to Jack with an impish look, "Send out the am-bastards, Jacky-boy?"

Jack completely ignored the jibe, "Damn straight!" he was fired up, "Someone get up to City College and get a hold of Dave, I'll see if I can get Denton in on this again. We need boys in every borough spreading the word…Spot should know about it by now but make sure he'll help." He looked out at his grinning audience, "Well don't stand their like idiots! We got a strike to win!"

The cheers echoed throughout the night sky. Scarlet dawn approached bearing in her hand a bloody promise of changes to come. The battle had sparked, the wind had begun to shift and no life would go untouched when all was finished.

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Obviously, this is just an epilogue; I had to establish a backdrop for the story to work against. Also, for other history-buffs out there, you should all know that this strike is purely fabricated, invented by me for the purpose of my story. Hope ya'll enjoyed my intro; updates and the real story are forthcoming, tune in next time! Oh, and reviews would be much appreciated ;)


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